Tudors, Coffee and Roses in the Park
There are many delights available to the city dweller but none so compelling on a Saturday morning as a trip to the local market. The lure of fresh pastry, loaves of bread and cheeses along with a cup of artisan coffee or hot apple cider call us to leap out of bed and stroll across town. Snapping on Lola’s leash, we head out to the gentle winds of October with sunny skies overhead. First, we cut through the park, lingering over the heady perfume of the many varieties of roses. Queen Elizabeth, Heidi Jayne and Tropicana march in stately rows alongside Euvard and Double Delight.
The three-tiered fountain gurgles and sparkles in the sunshine, providing a luxurious tub for the tiny sparrows and robins that hop, hip, hop through the still green grass. Pausing on the park bench to wait for Lola to christen the lawn, I pull out my laptop and begin my blog for the day. Having completed her tour of the trees, Lola toddles over and plops her front paws on my lap. She wants to help and, looking at her soft, brown eyes; it’s hard to refuse. Still, her paws aren’t precisely fashioned for typing, so I kiss her sweet face and put away my writing. We set off for downtown, enjoying the view of the century homes that we pass with their manicured lawns, pines and maples. These homes have been planted here by the founders of our town when the roads were dirt and horses clip-clopped through the streets. Life was slower then, and that serenity remains in the rose-covered arbours, tidy lawns and Tudor style homes that line the freshly paved streets.
Arriving at the glass covered market building, vibrant aromas of grilled sausage and hot coffee invite me closer for a taste.
A new vendor has entered today, selling freshly made sourdough bread. I taste the sample and the freshly baked focaccia drizzled with extra virgin olive oil melts in my mouth. (Click on the photo for more information.)
The chewy crust and manna-like softness take me back in time, and I'm back in my seventh-grade Home Ec. Class, where I first learned how to bake.
Buying a loaf, we move on past rows of freshly cut crimson and flame-orange sunflowers along with pots of mums and dried corn stalks. Baskets of rosy-cheeked apples wait in rows on tables next to boxes of squash, peppers and onions. It’s hard to choose what we will cook for the week ahead and I enquire about the produce from a vendor I’ve gotten to know. She suggests a bunch of swiss chard and some fresh ginger. I can sauté these with garlic and onions for a beautiful side to the steamed rice and tilapia I have in good supply back in my kitchen. Happy with my purchases, I treat Lola and me to a fresh pastry and small coffee. We make our way outside to the gathering of locals seated next to the small stage where bands play during the summer months. Dogs sniff noses and neighbours stop for a chat as we dine al fresco in the heart of the city. The freshly roasted coffee warms my hands, and it's good to sit, and people watch while I plan my meals for the coming week with the goodies I have purchased. Organic tomatoes, fragrant garlic and a plump acorn squash, have been added to our market basket and it's time to head home. Another week's worth of healthy food to inspire new recipes and experimentation in the kitchen.
Passing families and couples walking hand in hand, we head back toward the park and home to our cosy apartment. A workman on a ladder is applying a thick coat of cream paint to the eaves of a local store and calls out a greeting. A couple of boys sprinkle rose petals in the fountain while their father chides them for picking the blooms instead of just enjoying them as part of the garden and I laugh, remembering how much energy boys have at that age. My heart looks forward to the next holiday when I will bring my new granddaughter to see the park for the very first time. My grown children will visit then, and we can all traipse through town to the market, recalling memories of our childhood days spent shopping for
